Page 69 of Pipe Dreams
We brought it this far, he said to himself.We can take it even a little further.
That final period saw the play go a little ragged. But Beacon’s eyes weren’t as tired as the rest of him. He watched everything. Saw everything. Anticipated everything.
Blocked everything.
Just when he thought his legs might not make it through another overtime period, Castro got a breakaway on rebound. There was a mad scramble in front of the opponent’s net before the lamp lit.
Even then—because nothing was ever simple—Castro’s goal was under review. They stood around for two tense minutes while the officials watched the video.
And then the scoreboard lit for Brooklyn. They’d won, and would advance to round three. Smiling and practically sagging with relief, Beacon left the net to hug his teammates.
TWENTY-ONE
When Lauren reentered the hotel lobby after the game, she found that it had become ground zero for the Bruisers’ victory party. Players’ families had taken over the entire lounge area by the fountain.
She was surveying the scene when Jimbo trotted up and squeezed her elbow. “I asked the hotel if you’d made any arrangements for food and soft drinks,” he said. “They didn’t have anything on order.”
“Right.” Lauren whipped out her Katt Phone and pulled up the catering manager’s line. “Some of the guys think it’s bad luck to plan a victory party beforehand,” she explained. “They’d rather wait an extra half hour for their chicken wings than have me jinx them.”
“Good,” Jimbo grinned. “Because I just ordered ten dozen wings and a few plates of nachos. Hope you don’t mind.”
“That’s fine. Drinks?”
“I thought I’d let you handle that. That guy in the black vest seems to be on top of things.” Jimbo pointed at an employee poking at a touch-screen terminal beside the bar.
“Good tip,” she said. “I’ll talk to him right now.”
Lauren ordered several other food items and asked the waiter to set up a table, and to rope off an alcove where they could congregate. Players would be trickling in any moment now, and this melee wouldn’t be easy for Nate’s security team to handle.
Sure enough, Castro and Beringer arrived a moment later to cheers. Lauren stationed Jimbo at the entrance to the alcove and asked him to keep an eye on things until the bus arrived with the rest of the team.
Lauren flitted about, checking on the status of the transport vehicles and taking care of business. Everyone was smiling and jubilant, yet she fought off an unhappy void right in the middle of her chest.
This morning Lauren had taken an ovulation test. It was your basic pee-on-a-stick situation, and performed in the privacy of her hotel room. A minute after executing this maneuver, the digital readout showed her a smiley face.
She’d been wearing a frowny face ever since.
A frantic call to the fertility clinic had confirmed what she already suspected—they wouldn’t perform her insemination two days from now when she was back in New York, because it wasn’t likely enough to work. “Nobody wants to waste an expensive vial of sperm,” the nurse pointed out. “It’s best to wait until next month when you’ll be in town.”
But I’m tired of waiting, Lauren complained to herself. Now that she’d made the big decision to become a mother, she wanted to get on with it. And even worse—next month this same scenario might just play out again. The road to the Stanley Cup finals could potentially stretch out another fourteen games, each one two or three days apart. It could be mid-June before the kings were crowned. If her boys survived this next series, and if Becca was still out of commission, she might miss another date with the clinic.
The room began to fill with players and even more of their loved ones. She saw Jimbo admit a couple of teamalumni, too, including Dan “Chancey” Chancer and his evil troll of a wife.Great.
“Hey there.”
Lauren spun around to find Mike standing nearby with four champagne glasses and a magnum in his hand. “Hi,” she said, momentarily stalled by the happy look in his eye, and the dazzling effect of Mike Beacon in a suit, his shirt collar open at the neck, his tie stuffed into a pocket. “Good work tonight.”
“Thanks.” He winked. “It wasn’t pretty, but it got the job done.”
“That’s me on a good day,” she joked.
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Can’t agree there. You’ve never had a day without a whole lot of pretty.” He held out the hand with all the glasses. “Take one of these, will you? I want to pour you a glass.”
Lauren almost refused. She’d given up alcohol this past week on account of her potential pregnancy. Now she realized it didn’t matter if she had a glass of champagne. Swallowing roughly, she slipped one from his fingers. “Thanks.”
He poured, and she was all too conscious of how close to one another they were.
“Hans!” Mike called, lifting his chin toward the blond man standing nearby. “I have bubbly.”
